Iron Wolf
by Cyrus Snow
Summary: Hit the ground running. It's the first thing a newborn is told as they run from dangers they are told they would not understand. Rain thought he understood. He fought back and lost his Ghost in the process. Rescued from his own failed revenge plot, he joins a veteran Fireteam to be a Guardian of the Last City of Humanity. [::rated T for suggestive themes and blood::]
1. Chapter 1

_**IRON WOLF**_

 _ **Iron: a heavy metal that is very common, occurs naturally in blood, and is used to make steel**_.

Iron is simply steel that has yet to be forged.

[::]

"Adjusting scope for an extra one hundred feet of range; raising sight." A prone figure whispered quietly.

He carefully turned a knob on the long marksman scope atop his battered H&K G28 rifle. The firearm was rusted and the scope was cracked, but it still fired true and rarely jammed.

The boy, no older than seventeen, sporting an ash grey cotton jacket, a dirty, white scarf pulled over his face, a pair of worn blue jeans and black tennis shoes, hid himself inconspicuously among the debris of a mass of cars and trucks, many of which had rusted away to nothing. A traffic jam that was forgotten centuries ago, now gave the boy ample cover from the clearing a few hundred feet away from the overpass.

"Your ticket's signed this time, you four-armed bastard." The boy growled as he focused his sight upon the Fallen Baron.

He slowly placed his finger on the trigger, and teased it back; just enough to not have the weapon discharge. He slowed his breathing and took long, deep breaths to steady his aim; he would have one shot, and he needed to make it count.

Holding his breath, with the reticule placed slightly above the Baron's head, the boy closed his eyes, "This is for you, Ghost."

His eyes flashed open, and he pulled the trigger.

[::]

"Gah!" A boy inhaled harshly as he flung a blanket away. He was drenched in sweat and his breathing was erratic. The same dream and the same outcome; he would always make it to the point of pulling the trigger, and when he did, he would always wake up.

Always drenched in sweat.

He subconsciously clutched at the small pyramid of metal that hung off a thin chain around his neck: a macabre pendant that, in a way, comforted him; a reminder that his friend was still with him. His fists clenched at the memory as he suppressed it. He was in Fallen territory and he needed to stay alert.

"Keep it together, Rain. The Fallen don't take breaks, so neither can you."

Rain got to his feet groggily as he blinked the sleep away, intent on leaving the area as soon as possible. The sooner he could end his vendetta, the sooner he could start his march in search of, "The Last City," as Ghost called it.

Reaching down, he plucked up the threadbare blanket from the ground, and shook it to rid it of the dirt that may have clung to it while he slept. Wrapping up the thin blanket, he stuffed it, along with his sparse and rapidly depleting store of food and water, into his small, early 2000's military travel pack that he had found in a locked container along with his G28. Fortunately, sledgehammers don't care about rusted Masterlocks.

Shouldering the pack, Rain gave the place he had called home for three weeks a cursory once-over, just to make sure he hadn't left anything. The boards he placed on the windows still stood, masking his hideout from a majority of the outside, and a torn but useful, "Welcome to LA! Enjoy your stay!" banner served as a makeshift door. Satisfied that he hadn't forgotten anything of import, he grasped the handle of his G28 and placed it safely in his hands.

Switching the rifle from 'safety' to 'fire,' he passed through the banner door of his slipshod hideout and into the weak rays of dawn.

Shadowing his face with one of his hands, he surveyed the rough path he had carved through the debris of cars and overgrown weeds. Satisfied that he wasn't about to waltz into an ambush, Rain strode through his makeshift path. Pulling up his stained, torn, white scarf to his face, the ends fluttered wildly in the harsh wind as he pushed on to his goal.

Completely unaware of a dual pair of gleaming, blue eyes shining from the side of the path.

[::]

"Sharwa dalliyar sa?"

'Are you certain it was him?' A hulking figure atop an iron throne made from ancient rebar demanded.

"D-di, sa-salli dir s-suri, Da Sai."

'Y-yes, it was th-the light ch-child, your Grace." A lowly two armed Fallen stuttered.

The Baron ran his clawed fingers along the jawline of his helm, wondering how severe of a punishment he would deal to the disgraced one cowering before him for not killing the irksome human on sight.

His hand paused halfway down his jawline, and a vicious, feral smirk grew beneath his helm. He would not punish the disgraced one before him.

No, he would promote him.

For allowing him to kill the light child himself.

"Su, dyli sau de?"

'So, you know where he is?' Baron Karsis wondered aloud.

"Di, di, Da Sai! Di!"

'Yes, yes, Your Grace! Yes!' The Dreg nodded emphatically.

Baron Karsis stood to his full, massive height of seven and a half feet, and gave the disgraced one below him an emotionless glare.

"Du seh des sin, dreg siru. Den sun dun su."

'You have done well, disgraced one. You have proven that you can be of use to me.'

The Dreg's ether flooded heart skipped a beat, and he looked to his Baron with hope before the Baron's fearsome glare forced him to quickly drop his eyes back to the dirt.

"Din sal duin selu dini slud, drus stelt dvan dal san dan selim dir suri"

'You will be promoted to Stealth Warrior, and You will assist me in my elimination of the light child.'

The disgraced one crawled up to Karsis on his hands and knees, never daring to look up, and began kissing his Baron's feet in gratitude and reverence.

"Sut das! Sut das, Da Sai!-"

'Thank you! Thank you, Your Grace!-' The dreg was cut short as Karsis kicked him away, irritated at the lowly disgrace that had the gall to touch him.

The disgraced Fallen scrambled to his feet as the Baron's shadow, cast from the light of dozens of flare pipes, rolled over him.

Slowly, the Dreg glanced up at the angered Baron, and his heart dropped at the most fearsome of sights.

Baron Karsis was smiling.

[::]

"Why are all the cool things always broken!?" Whined Rain as he threw the ruined Taurus revolver over his shoulder, the barrel having been broken off ages ago.

Rain coughed nervously as he remembered the rifle slung across his back. "Except for you, buddy."

Rain rubbed to barrel of his gun affectionately as he fiddled with his switchblade, struggling to pop the blade out with the rusty switch mechanism.

"Hah," Rain sighed in defeat, "I really need to find some oil or something for my knife."

Pulling his hand away from his gun he noticed the orange residue that had come away with it. "And maybe a little something for my gun, too."

Rain moved more debris around as he searched through the remains of an old warehouse in hopes of finding either some MREs or possibly containers of water. Anything else found would be a bonus.

Lugging an especially bulky piece of twisted metal, he grunted in effort as he pushed it off of a locked box. It was dented and warped. Rust covered the outside, just like everything else, and there was a padlock on the hinge.

"Oo," Rain murmured, "there are always fun things in locked boxes."

Rain kicked down on the padlock hard, and chipped off a piece of the lock. Lifting his right leg up high, he threw his body into the kick, and shattered the ancient lock. Reaching eagerly at the box, he threw the box open, and inside was...

Nothing.

"Really?" Rain groaned, "but there are always awesome things in locked boxes! It's like a postapocalyptic rule!" He tossed the box to the ground.

' _ **Clang**_ '

Rain flinched. "I need to be more careful. I can't get sloppy now..." Shaking his head, Rain continued to search for provisions that could aid him on his journey to the Last City, where ever it may be.

' _A map would certainly be a start_ ' Rain snorted internally.

"I wonder if there would be any paper maps still intaACT-!" Rain stumbled forward and landed flat on his face, a sharp piece of debris cutting his cheek.

Rain touched his cheek gingerly, "Oh great. How the hell am I supposed to get a tetanus shot out here."

Turning to face the offending object that had tripped him, The irritated look on his face turned to intrigue.

"And what might this thing be?" A small, dull, light gray metal poked out from under the orange rust that surrounded it. Rain crawled from his position over to it, his bleeding cheek forgotten.

Tossing away shards of metal and wiping away the dust that covered it, Rain uncovered a small chest, with faint, green lights coming from two, small circles near the top of it.

He circled the box, searching for a way to open it, and finally sat down cross legged at, what he presumed was, the front of it.

"Now," Rain began aloud, "how do I open you..." Rain reached forward in a trance, and once his hand got within reach, a bright spark arced between his forefinger and the box. He reeled back as the box made a loud hissing sound.

Sucking on his slightly singed finger, he pulled it out of his mouth to assess the damage. The skin around the pad of his finger had been charred black. Frowning at his burnt finger, he shook it a bit in an attempt to rid it of the pain.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good..." Rain paused mid sentence as he looked to the offending box, now open and its contents exposed.

His injured finger ignored and the blood on his cheek drying, Rain leaned over the chest, and a large grin split his face.

"Bitchin'."

Sitting atop a mound of glowing blue cubes and a roughspun piece of folded fabric, sat a shining steel revolver, seemingly untouched by time.

Unstrapping his backpack, Rain stuffed as many blue cubes as he could into the bag. He didn't care what they were, but they looked expensive, and maybe he could use them for bargaining at the Last City when he got there. After looking over the gun, unlocking the cylinder and making sure it was loaded, he shoved it into his back pocket.

Finally, he unfolded the square of fabric that the gun had been placed on, and he noted that it had a large pocket of cloth at the bottom. Mentally slapping himself, he realized that he was holding it upside down, and flipped it over.

"It's... a coat?" Rain asked, puzzled.

"No... It's a cloak..." Rain murmured.

Quickly shouldering his backpack, Rain threw the mottled gray cloak over his head, and adjusted it so it draped over his shoulders and covered his backpack.

Tossing the hood over his unkempt brown hair, he took the revolver out from his pocket. Using the polished steel as a mirror, Rain admired himself in the silver reflection. "I will admit," he nodded his head in affirmation, "this cloak's pretty sweet."

Stashing his new toy away, Rain trekked back through the debris to where he placed his rifle on its bipod. Frowning at his trusted gun, it wasn't until he saw his new one that he realized just how much work he needed done to his rifle. The metal was rusted, scope cracked, range knob was difficult to adjust, the butt of the gun was missing its padding, and worst of all was its missing cover for the ejection port.

Sadly, Rain doubted that he'd be able to find any gun parts anywhere, nor did he believe that his lovely neighbors would assist him, either.

"I can fix quite a bit of electronic devices and other things," Rain said to himself, "but I'm no mechanic, and I'm certainly not a gunsmith."

Rain grabbed his gun by the magazine, and dragged it from the dirt. Gripping it by the handle, he shook it out, ridding it of some of the rust colored dust that had clung to it whilst sitting in there. Rain pulled the gun near his face so he could check if the ejection port was clear. Happy that nothing foreign was inside his rifle, Rain dropped the front end into his left hand, and began to walk out.

' _ **Gung'**_

Rain readied his rifle in an instant, bringing it up to bear and his finger on the trigger. Rain made a slow, deliberate sweep around the room. There were no places to hide behind, so Rain was convinced that there were no Fallen near him.

"Eh," Rain shrugged, "probably just some metal contracting in the cold." Warily, Rain lowered his rifle, but resumed his patrol more cautiously, and watched every shadow with paranoid eyes.

However, no matter how paranoid Rain was, he couldn't see the invisible Vandal at the edge of the room, slowly tracking him.

The Hunter, was the hunted.

[::]

"Stupid, postapocalyptic world and its stupid lack of hand warmers." Rain grumbled as he rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. The sun had set an hour ago, and Southern California was no longer the eternally warm place he knew growing up. Now, it _actually_ got cold at night.

Rain pulled his cloak closer to himself, eager to block out the biting wind. Currently trudging through the remains of old cars, trucks, and even the occasional armored vehicle, he moved slowly to the spot he had scouted out earlier in the day overlooking a place where Fallen had been moving large crates. Now he hoped that it would be the perfect ambush against his target.

Rain began muttering to himself. "In a movement of resources that large, there'd have to be a project overseer to manage the workers. If I'm lucky, hopefully it'll be that damned Baron, and I can end my vendetta here and now. I can go to the Last City and I'll become the best God damn Guardian there ever was. I'll become a legend."

Rain grinned wildly beneath his scarf. "I'll be the one who takes down the Fallen, and I'll restore Humanity to its rightful glory."

Usually, teenagers wanted good grades, a nice social life, maybe even a pleasant girlfriend or boyfriend to laugh and love with.

Rain wanted the genocide of a species.

Dropping into a crouch, Rain gripped his rifle tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strain. The black, clouded sky above radiated no light, and his mottled gray cloak helped him blend into his surroundings. He opted to leaving his pack at his temporary base camp in favor of stealth. The blue cubes he had picked up made an awful lot of noise when jerked around.

Rain quickly dove behind a particularly thick bush just as a harsh beam of reddish light passed over the spot he was crouched moments before. Peering up over the top of the bush, he spotted a Fallen Vandal manning a large searchlight atop a hastily erected watchtower made from scrap metal.

"Humph," Rain grunted in amusement, "I've become such a nuisance that they've upped their security. I'll have to fix that."

He placed the scope of his rifle just above the bush, so the barrel of the gun was kept hidden in it. Rain took a deep breath, and held it. Placing the reticle right between the Vandal's four eyes, he pulled the trigger, earning a muted report from his weapon, and the neck of the Vandal blowing off.

"Damn." He whispered harshly.

Rain, dropping down to check his magazine, was pleased to see he still had eleven rounds left. "I was going for a headshot. Should've aimed higher."

Quietly placing the magazine back into his rifle, it locked with a faint click. Rain pulled out his switchblade, and manually flicked out the blade. Stalking up to a dreg nearby his previously scouted firing position, he grabbed the larger being from behind by its mask and jammed the knife into its throat. Dragging the limp form to a nearby shrub, Rain took over the now vacant position and began to assess his situation.

"Only a few Vandals walking the perimeter and the two I took out?" Rain shrugged, "Maybe they didn't step up their security after all."

Passing his scope over the work sight, he paused occasionally to observe a dreg here or there, struggling to figure out what was in the crates. He watched a dreg holding an especially large crate suddenly drop it, and drop to the dirt.

"What the..." began Rain as he turned his sight to where the dreg was kneeling, and a smile erupted across his face.

Materializing out from behind a stack of crates was his target.

The Baron.

His legend would begin here.

Rain struggled to put his cold rifle into position atop an old concrete guardrail. Ripping out the wad of cloth he kept in the ejector port to keep it clean away, Rain eagerly set his weapon to 'fire' and put his right eye behind the scope.

"Your ticket's signed this time, you four-armed bastard." He growled as he focused his sight upon the Fallen Baron.

He slowly placed his finger on the trigger, and teased it back; just enough to not have the weapon discharge. He slowed his breathing and took long, deep breaths to steady his aim; he would have one shot, and he needed to make it count.

Holding his breath, with the reticule placed slightly above the Baron's head, he closed his eyes, "This is for you, Ghost.".

His eyes burst open.

The Baron was looking directly at him.

Time seemed to slow as the Baron raised his arm, and pointed right at him. Rain's hair stood on end and his face dropped as he realized his mistake.

He wasn't hunting the Baron; the Baron was hunting him.

"Son of a-!" was all Rain could spurt out before he was thrown by invisible, clawed hands down into the clearing below.

"Oomph!" Rain choked as the wind was knocked out of him, and his rifle sent skittered across the dirt, right to the feet of the Baron. Reaching down, the Baron plucked his gun up from the ground, and promptly bisected the barrel with a claw, the tube of metal clanging on the dry dirt before being crushed beneath the Baron's armored foot.

Rain struggled to crawl backwards on his back, never daring to look away from the Baron. Thinking of anything that could save himself, Rain pulled out his switchblade and threw it at the Baron. The knife glanced off of a blue tinted field around the Baron, and dug itself into the dirt nearby. The Fallen leader glanced at the weapon, bored. Rain looked around desperately, and saw salvation in the form of his aging revolver, the barrel glinting in the red hue of the Fallen lights.

Rain crawled hastily to his weapon, only to see it fly across the clearing, a Fallen Vandal materializing where the gun once lay. Rain scrambled back as a sword buried itself in the ground, catching his cloak. Tugging at his cloak in futility, a choked sob escaped his mouth. How could someone become a legend if they were dead?

"I failed you, Ghost..."

Glancing up at the what was target, now turned executioner, Rain duly noted that instead of a gun, the Baron wielded a sword.

Laughing, the Baron tossed Rain the broken remnants of his rifle. The scope was gone and the handle was missing along with the recently cut barrel.

But the trigger was there.

A plan formulated in his head; a last ditch effort that wouldn't allow him to get away with his life, but he could at least take the Baron with him. Allowing the Baron to walk all the way up to him, Rain bunched up his cloak, and positioned himself next to the sword that held him in place.

"Salir dag sa det, SHAR!" The Baron raised his sword and brought it down onto Rain.

At least, where Rain used to be.

Rain threw the excess cloak out and pulled as far as he could from the impaled sword, forcing the cloak taut. The Baron's sword cleaved his cloak in half, and Rain somersaulted to his rifle. Holding the gun up by the magazine and butt stock, Rain aimed the sawed off end of the gun at the Baron, and pulled what was left of the trigger. A resounding, ' _ **Kraboom**_ ' echoed through clearing, and the left arm of the Baron erupted into glowing ether.

Crying out in pain and rage, the Baron dove to the left, and retreated to the safety of a waiting skiff, the Vandals that remained following suit.

Rain looked down at his gun in awe before he heard someone clearing their throat behind him. Spinning around, he saw an angelic figure clad in white armor and a billowing cloak on their back, a long, red and white sniper rifle resting in their hand.

"You made me miss my shot."


	2. IW Fireteam: Chapter 2

Iron Wolf CH2

"You made me miss my shot." My savior responded, obviously irritated.

I am not proud in saying that I stood frozen in place, my mind playing the same thought like a broken record.

 _That's a girl!?_

Paying more attention to the stranger's figure, I began to notice the wide hips and slim waist along with a much more obvious feature that was a bit hard to see at first under the chest plate she was wearing.

I was snapped out of my stupor via blunt trauma given by the butt of the stranger's rifle.

"Are you listening to me at all?" The stranger growled angrily.

I rubbed the back of my neck and laughed nervously. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

She sighed heavily and sat down with her rifle laying to her right. "Not only did I miss that Iron Baron, but I got myself stuck with a clueless villager that doesn't even listen," she threw left hand onto her helmet.

Sliding her hand slowly down in an exaggerated fashion, "I said," she started slowly, enunciating each syllable carefully, "do you realize how deep you are in Fallen Territory?"

"What? Do you think I wanted to be surrounded by marauding, four-armed, and apparently genocidal aliens? Not in a million years, miss…"

"Smoke." She said plainly.

"Miss Smoke-" I continued,

"Just Smoke." She interrupted.

"Ok then...Smoke...I just… woke up here, and I suddenly found myself fighting for my life."

Smoke lifted her head, intrigued. "You just… woke up? Hmm..."

"Yeah, I just kinda… woke up on my two feet, and this little floating robot, Ghost… told me to hit the ground running…"

"A Ghost? Oh shit... Alright, show me." Smoke quipped, lifting her chin up a bit.

Puzzled by her request, I slowly reached down my shirt and pulled the triangular piece of metal that was left of Ghost. Placing her arms on her thighs, Smoke leaned forward to see it, and after a moment, leaned back to her previous slouched position.

"He told me something important before he… broke. That I was someone called a "Guardian" of the Last City. Do you know where it is? Or how long it'll take me to get there?"

"So he's a Guardian…fuck. . ." Smoke muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear it when I strained my ears.

"And he's lost his Ghost, too..." She added absently.

I flinched slightly- only slightly- when Smoke jumped to her feet and quickly slung her rifle over her back.

"Follow me."

I crossed my arms defiantly, "And why should I? I just met you and while you did save my life- which I'm extremely grateful for by the way- I still don't know who you are or where we're going."

"God dammit, you're difficult," Smoke lamented, "do you want to follow me, or stay here with the four armed bastards? If you must know where I'm going, it _is_ to the Last City." Slowing her speech on the last three words.

Blushing from my own lack of attentiveness, I suddenly found the rock by my foot extremely interesting. I heard Smoke sigh in frustration as she began to walk away.

"Well?" she called back expectantly.

Lifting my head up from the ground, I saw Smoke, once again outlined in the soft moonlight against the grey night sky. A sharp glint came off her thigh, and I saw a revolver that put mine to shame. The thing was massive, the size of a .357 Magnum, at least. It also made me realize that I had left my own on the ground; I'd forgotten about it after my struggle against the Baron.

Despite the little voice in my head telling me that going with this woman was probably going to get me killed, one look at the massive revolver on her hip and the even larger sniper rifle on her back, that little voice was promptly pistol whipped and beaten, then thrown in a locked filing cabinet for good measure.

"Hang on, I need to get my gun." I said over my shoulder to Smoke as I swept my eyes over the clearing until I found my gun along the far edge of the weeds and rusted out vehicle husks.

Taking the six-shooter from its resting place on the ground, I was pleased to see it was in a far better shape than my rifle was. The only damage I could tell just by glancing at it was a shallow scratch along the side of the barrel, probably from the Vandal kicking it or from sort of debris or rock on the ground.

Happily shoving it in my waistband, I jogged back to where Smoke was waiting impatiently.

"What's the matter, forget something else? Coffee maker? Teddy bear? Perhaps an easy bake oven?"

Thinking back to my pack, "yeah, actually I left my pa-"

"Well too bad, we're going. Now." Smoke said quickly, cutting me off.

I tried to voice my complaints, "But what about my pack?"

"They'll give you a new one at the Tower. Now shut up and get moving." Without another word, Smoke turned curtly and walked away.

"H-Hey! Wait for me!" I stuttered out while clambering over debris and weeds.

When I finally caught up to Smoke, the only indication that she had even acknowledged my presence was the minuscule turn of her helmet- just enough to see if you were looking for it- to make sure I was still following her. I assume. Or she's just making sure I wasn't going to make a grab for her gun.

"Hey, Smoke?" I decided to ask my traveling companion.

"What." She grunted out sharply.

"I'd be correct in my assumption that you're a so-called 'Guardian' too, right?"

"In a sense, yes."

"Where's _your_ Ghost?" I asked innocently.

Smoke was silent for a moment before speaking up. "We should be within sight of my ship. Be on the look out for a large Bronze colored ship with two large engines on each side."

"Like that one?" I asked, pointing towards where a rather obvious looking large, futuristic, yet familiar ship sat with landing gear extended off to the left.

"Yes... Like that one." I could practically hear the groan come through her helmet.

We walked up to the hulking monster of a ship. At about the size of a large fighter jet, the ship looked to be in a beautiful state. It was a pleasing change to see something that wasn't falling apart.

"This is your ship?" I asked incredulously.

"No, this is my toaster. Yes it's my ship!" She screamed.

"I'm assuming there's a really stupid way in like needing to be teleported in or something."

"You'd be right." Smoke pushed a panel on the side of the ship, and after typing in a code into a deployed keypad, a soft hiss emanated from the ship and a narrow walkway slid out from the base of it.

"In a world of NLS drives and time-traveling robots with physical manifestations of darkness," I couldn't see her face, but I somehow knew Smoke was smirking at me, "we have to walk onto our ship."

"I'm sensing some sarcasm here."

"Oh," Smoke drawled out, "ya don't say?"

Smoke waved her hand lazily in the air back at me. "C'mon, I've waited around too long as is. We need to report back, and I need to do some paperwork because of you."

"Paperwork?" I asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. Some New Monarchy and Vanguard bullshit policy and because of you I have to spend my leave filling out paperwork. Lazy vanguard bastards, why can't they do it themselves; it not like they do any fighting or anything. They get to leave and go drinking whenever they want."

"Well yes, I can tell you're pretty pissed off about it" I continued to question as we both walked up the gangway, "but what is it?"

"It's just some basic information, like what their eye color is, ethnicity, if they're a Human, Awoken, or Exo- shit like that. It's easy but I still don't like doing paper work. I had to fill that crap out myself when I crawled my way to the City." Smoke grumbled.

Smoke slumped down into a heavily padded chair in front of what appeared to be the windshield, err screen, windshield video screen thing, and began to flick switches left and right.

"Hold onto your cloak, cowboy." Smoke taunted.

I threw myself into seat next to her and struggled to find the seat belt.

"Uh, Smoke? Where's the seat belt?"

Smoke made a face, "The fuck's a seat belt?"

"Oh... shit." I gulped.

"Hahahahaaa!" Smoke cackled as she slammed the NLS button.

"Son of a bi-!"

[::]

 _ **SSIPHHHU**_

 _ **SSIPHHHU**_

Smoke landed onto the Tower proper as nimbly as a cat, while I landed with all the grace of a drunken elephant. That was high.

"Remind me," I coughed out while peeling myself off of the floor, "to never get in a ship with you flying _ever_ again."

"Oh, quit your whining. We got here in one piece; you can't ask for much more than that now can you." smoke rebutted.

"Of course I could! I could..." I trailed off after noticing that Smoke was walking away without me... again, "I'm going to have to get used to this, won't I?"

I hauled ass to Smoke, but not without noticing all the gawking stares that, whom I presumed to be other Guardians, at Smoke and me.

"Heya, Smoke?"

"What?" Smoke grunted.

"Why are all of the others staring at us? It's really creeping me out..." I mumbled the last part almost inaudibly.

"They're probably checking out my ass. Or you. You're new. I know Steel over there is checking out my ass." Smoke turned to a large, heavily armored man talking with another, equally heavily armored man, "Steel! Get your ass over here. We've got some legal bullshit to sign."

Without hesitation, the armored man, Steel, began to sluggishly walk over to where Smoke and I were waiting patiently. Well, I was waiting patiently. Smoke looked about as patient as a scolding mother; foot tapping and all.

"Who did you put in extensive care this timeo, Smoke?" Steel stated plainly.

"I haven't stabbed anyone in almost three weeks, Steel. Just look at the Vanguard board." Smoke said defensively.

"Okay... If you did not stab anyone, why in God's name do we need to do any paperwork? I have just barely gotten my spelling skills up to a "third grade" level."

"This," Smoke pointed a thumb to her right at me, "is why we have to do paperwork."

Steel turned to me, and eyed me up and down. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Steel glanced at Smoke, "you actually picked this poor lad up, and did not just leave him out there? That is rather surprising, coming from you, Smoke."

"Contractions, Steel." Smoke tutted as she sashayed past Steel and towards a large staircase, "don't forget where you are. Now come on, we've got shit to sign."

"I have just gotten used to using the modern vernacular, and now you want me to use contractions?" Steel complained loudly.

I jogged past a grumbling Steel up to Smoke's left side just as she was descending the staircase. "What did Steel mean by 'getting used to the modern vernacular?'"

"I'm guessing by now you've already guessed that when you woke up, you were dead," I nodded my head in affirmation, "and that the little wake up call Ghost gives us isn't exactly bound by time."

Smoke looked over her shoulder at my puzzled face and Clarified. "Basically, a Ghost can revive anyone, from any age and time period as long as they can wield Light. Steel used to be a Crusader, a Knight Templar, in the Medieval Age."

"Where are you from then?" I questioned.

"What?"

"What time period are you from? Steel was from the Medieval Age, and I was from the Second Technological Revolution. So, where are you from?"

Smoke appeared to be mulling over whether or not to tell me, and when she opened her mouth it wasn't what I was exactly hoping for. "The Vanguard Masters n in here. Let me talk and don't listen to Cayde, he can be an ass. Just do what I say and you'll be fine."

"Whatever you say, Smoke..." I mumbled disappointedly.

The large foyer that the Staircase had put us at ended and opened into a larger area, with colored banners draping from the ceiling and floor to ceiling frosted windows in the back. Dominating the center of the room was a large, rectangular table where three figures were standing around. Two of the figures were wearing cloth and leather, with the furthest one back clad in full body armor, sin helmet.

"Ah, and if it isn't the legendary Smokej. A Hero of the Twilight Gap! How might us humble Vanguard Masters assist you today?" The man, err robot, said dramatically on the left.

"Can it, Cayde. I don't have timeb for your shit today. I just want to fill out this bastard's paperwork and then I'm going to the bar." Smoke said irritably.

Cayde tilted his head and looked beyond Smoke to see me shuffling awkwardly behind her.

"Oh, a newborn, huh? Where'd you pick him up? Over by the Cosmodrome?" Cayde asked, a slight southern drawl evident in his voice.

"I'm right here, you could just ask m-" I started before being interrupted by Smoke.

"I found him over on the far Frontier, out by old Los Angeles."

"Oo, didja used to gamble over there, kid?" Cayde asked, directed toward me this time.

"That's Las Vegas. God, for all the advanced technology, you are still a fucking idiot." Smoke barked.

"Eh," Cayde shrugged, "I don't think I was programmed with useless facts like that anyway."

"Can we get back to the task at hand? The faster this is over, the faster I can go drink." Smoke chirped impatiently.

"Alright, alright. I don't want to go change the board over there to zero, thank you very much." Cayde said while pulling a small stack of papers from the table in front of him.

Smoke turned to the black lady in a red and purple cloak at one end of the table and yelled, "Do robots count as people, Ikora?"

"Depends on your opinion. To me, no, Cayde is just another tin can." Ikora replied casually.

"Well maybe you won't have to." Smoke said to Cayde while she cracked her knuckles.

Meanwhile, I looked over to where Cayde had pointed and across the room was a small whiteboard that had 'Days since Smoke's last maiming: 20' written across the top.

Feeling a bit more uneasy of my new friend, I tried to pay more attention to what Cayde was saying. Surprisingly enough, it seemed as if Smoke was already almost done.

"I know you're not going to read any of this shit, so just sign these three lines here."

"I know what I'm doing Cayde," Smoke stated bitingly, "I had to do this myself before this stupid ass policy was in effect."

"I know, I know,"Cayde stated with his hands up, "but that third line is a new one."

"What do you mean, 'new one?'" Smoke said as more of a threat rather than a question.

"You sign that line if you want the guardian you brought back to be on your Fireteam, if it isn't full that is. Since you bring them back, you get first dibs on em. If you don't sign that line, then they'll be up for fireteam selection for a week. If no one takes them after that then they get placed on an R ranked team where they can be with other new guardians and form a team bond early on and all that other jazz." Cayde explained.

"Sounds overly complex." Smoke grunted, folding the sheets of paper back to the front. I couldn't help but notice that she didn't sign the third line.

"You know how New Monarchy works. Also, it ends up being less work for us in the long run. We Vanguard Masters only have to deal with the R rank teams and we leave the other newborns to the tutelage of a Veteran Fireteam." Cayde said, sounding pleased.

Smoke looked over her shoulder at me. "See what I mean? Lazy. Fucks."

Smoke finished folding up her sheets and pushed them to Cayde. "I'm done here. Have a nice life, kid. I need a drink."

Smoke stood up to leave, but Cayde stopped her. "Smoke, I know you didn't fill out that third line, and to be completely honest, I think it'd be best for the kid over there to go with you and Steel."

Smoke stared at him like he had grown a second head. "Wait, what? Why the fuck would I want this kid on my team? Steel and I work just fine on our own."

"All the other Veteran Fireteams are full at the moment, and since there has been a pretty big influx of new guardians, there are too many R ranked teams to keep track of. More than a few of them are stuck on Tower Duty just training in the sims. That's no way to teach and learn how to survive in the field and you know that as well as anyone else."

For once, Smoke had nothing to say back to Cayde.

"He is correct you know." Steel commented, walking down from the entrance of the room.

I finally got the courage to speak up after Cayde and Steel had spoken their minds.

"Please, Smoke? I've been on my own for a month now, so you won't have to worry about taking care of me. I can shoot pretty well, too!"

"Yeah, and you almost got yourself killed by taking on a Fallen Baron by yourself." Smoke retorted.

"You took on a Baron by yourself? You've got some spunk, kid, I'll give you that." Cayde mused offhandedly.

"No, Rain. I don't need you on my team."

"If I am not mistaken, it is _our_ team, Smoke, and I believe that Rain would make an excellent addition to our team. He has survived in the Far Frontier for longer than most could even dream. He is resourceful, to say the least." Steel said flatly.

"Knock off Cayde's hood, Rain." Smoke said suddenly.

"Do what?"

"I want you to knock off Cayde's hood, any way you can. Oh, and you can't move."

"Okay..." I mumbled.

 _How do I knock off his hood without even moving?_ I thought to myself, puzzled.

 _Oh! I can use my switchblade, and throw it, knocking his hood off that way_.

I stuck my hand into my pocket, and fumbled around the handle, trying to unsheath the rusted knife without Cayde seeing. A quiet ' _tink_ ' accompanied the blade locking into place. I hastily drew the knife out of my pocket and threw it vertically at Cayde's hood. The blade slid past the edge of the fabric and caught in the back of the hood, ripping it back from his head and the sudden jolt throwing Cayde's head back a bit.

Someone in the other room dropped a tablet pen and it could be heard clattering on the polished stone floor.

The armored man in the back spoke up after being silent for the entire conversation.

"Did anyone just see him move?"

I looked hopefully at Smoke. "Does this mean I can join Steel and you?"

"Oh, Hell no," Smoke stated, "that was just to make sure you were a Hunter and not a Titan or Warlock."

"Oh..."

"Have fun with the sims." Smoke yelled turning around.

"Wait," said Steel, "I get a say in this, too, and I say he can join."

"Doesn't matter; it requires a majority and half isn't a majority." Yelled Smoke, still walking, albeit slower.

"No, but me being your CO does matter and since I out rank you, lieutenant Smoke, I am ordering you to allow him to join our Fireteam."

"What? Bullshit!" Smoke turned to Cayde, "Can he do this?!"

Cayde hit a few buttons on a data pad next to him.

"Section 4, subsection 56, 'The leading officer of any Fireteam has the authority to make any decisions or issue any orders that he or she deems necessary for the good and well being of a Fireteam as a whole, so long as these orders do not interfere with orders given by an officer of higher rank than the Fireteam commanding officer.' So yes... he can."

Smoke looked as if she was going to explode. Instead she turned around and stomped out of the room.

"I guess that means you are in." Steel announced.

"Really?!" I half shouted in excitement.

"Yes, really. Now stop hugging me." Steel asked.

"Oh," I let go of Steel, wondering when and how I hugged him from across the room, "sorry."

"It is okay. I like to be hugged and Smoke never hugs me so... The hug is welcome!"

Steel threw his arm over my shoulder and gave me a pat on the back hard enough to knock the wind out of me. "Congratulations, Rain! You are with Smoke and me on this new Crusade against the Godless Darkness!" Steel said cheerfully.

( **PoV, Cayde-6)**

I watched them walk out of the room, Steel with his arm over Rain's shoulder and Rain laughing and jumping in excitement.

"Well, that was awkward." Zavala wondered aloud.

"Yeah, but I think it went better than expected..." I muttered.

"Really, how so?"

"Well, for one, she accepted the kid."

Zavala laughed, "I know you Hunters have odd ways of accepting new initiates, but that _definitely_ was not one of them."

"You don't know Smoke like I do. If she truly didn't want him on her team, she would have fought to the bitter end. Instead, she just accepted it and stormed out."

"So why did she storm out, and what will you do about it?"

I reached under the table and felt around for the key to this problem. I pulled out a glass bottle filled with amber liquid.

"Whiskey? That's your solution? Ha." Zavala mocked.

"Hey, she loves it and she stormed out because now she can't go drinking as an on-duty Instructor."

I glanced to the far end of the table. "Oh, and you might want to find the whiteboard eraser, Zavvy."

I turned towards the door and headed out.


End file.
